Night's Cold Embrace
by TheArgentMoon
Summary: (Set in Thief 4, eventual Garrett/OC.) What's that in the shadows, concealed, thriving in darkness? What are those footsteps you hear? The displacement of air you feel? Just a trick of the light, a rat in the street, a breath of wind. But do you trust your senses? Be wary, for Night harbors all sorts of souls who emerge and, safe in her cold embrace, are set loose upon us all.
1. Prologue

_There aren't many Thief fan fictions on this website, so I decided to write one! This is going to be a Garrett/OC fan fiction. I know it doesn't seem like it right now, but this is just the prologue. It will start picking up in Chapter 1. This is my first multi-chapter story ever, so please be gentle! Constructive criticism is much appreciated, though, so please review. Also, despite this being filed under the category Thief: The Dark Project, this story follows the events after the 2014 reboot of the Thief series. (And if you're wondering, yes the poem I wrote is inspired by the nursery rhyme featured in the Doctor Who episode, "Listen".)_

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><p><em>Prologue<em>

What's that in the shadows,  
>Concealed, thriving in darkness?<br>What are those footsteps you hear?  
>The displacement of air you feel behind you?<br>Just a trick of the light,  
>A rat in the street,<br>A breath of wind.  
>But do you trust your senses?<br>Be wary, for Night harbors all sorts of souls  
>Who emerge, safe in her cold embrace,<br>And are set loose upon us all.

...

Garrett jumped through the open window of the clock tower. Even though he was safe there, he moved silently out of habit. He sighed as he made his way to his battered bed on tired legs. He had searched every inch of the city, looking for Erin to no avail. He knew that eventually he would have to leave the town if he was to find her. But the city was his home, it was the one place where he felt that he belonged.

As he sank down onto the bed, his hands moved to withdraw an arrow from the quiver slung across his shoulder. He fiddled with it absent mindedly, resting his elbows on his thighs.

Despite his efforts to suppress it, a terrible thought crossed his mind. What if he didn't want to find Erin? She was the closest thing to a family he had, but she had changed so much over the years. Having abandoned his thieving methods in favour of her own, which she thought to be superior, she had become a different person. Could he confront her, after all that had happened? And if he did, what would he do? Try to change her beliefs? Convince her to follow in his footsteps?

_I can imagine how that would go_, he thought with a smirk.

Garrett took a deep breath to clear his mind, removing all his gear and then placing it beside his bed. He lay back and rested his head over his clasped hands. Now wasn't the time to make major decisions; he didn't trust his judgement when he was deprived of sleep.

The silence bothered him. He missed the comforting, hypnotic ticking of the clock. It was difficult to sleep without the sound. He had considered repairing the clock, but since it hadn't been working for over a year, its sudden restoration might raise suspicions amongst the townspeople. Even though people believed the tower was haunted, he didn't want to take any chances. After all, there are always skeptics and pragmatists in the world. Or those desperate enough to do just about anything for some coin.

Feeling the tugs of sleep slowly pull him towards unconsciousness, Garrett closed his eyes and relaxed his tense muscles.

The sun was rising. It was time to sleep.


	2. Quick Update: Chapter 1 Coming Soon!

_Quick update: More chapters coming soon!_

Hello, my lovely readers! Thank you for reading this story and thank you to Deadly Papegoja especially for your kind review (I made a small change to the prologue, thanks). I admit I haven't played or watched any of the previous Thief games, so I may not portray Garrett in the way that you expect him to be portrayed. I think the Garretts from the two games are similar, though.

Anyway, I've realized recently that I don't exactly know where I'm going with this story; I published the prologue on an impulse... But I'll do my best to get more chapters up as quickly as I can, so please bear with me. I will try to post the first chapter this week!

Well, I just thought that whoever is following this story deserves to know this, so... Thank you for your patience!


	3. Chapter 1

_Firstly, thank you MasterThiefWolf and Deadly Papegoja for your awesome reviews. They really made my day!  
><em>_Anyway, sorry but I lied. This is still the introductory part of the story and is thus fairly uneventful. I plan on fleshing this fanfic out quite a bit, so it will build slowly. It will pick up soon, though, don't worry! Also, I'm sorry if the characters aren't really in character. I had trouble capturing the essence of the people in this scene, but I tried my best so hopefully it won't be too painful to read! As always, please let me know what you think in the review section. All reviews are welcome :) Without further ado, here is Chapter 1!_

_WARNING: Very coarse language in this chapter._

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><p><em>Chapter 1 <em>

The cold night air bit through the cloth mask concealing Garrett's face, painting colour on his usually ashen face. He crept silently over rooftops, hopping effortlessly from rafter to rafter. Instinctively he stayed within the confines of the shadows to avoid being spotted, but he doubted the City Watch officers, who were celebrating the receding Gloom, were sober or alert enough to be searching for any thieves in the night. They probably wouldn't even have noticed him if he walked right past them in the light of the torches.

Little did they know that in the poorest areas of town, lingering wisps of the Gloom still clung to its victims like the stifling smell of smoke trapped in one's clothing. Most of the sickness disappeared along with the Primal Stone's power, but for some reason it refused to vanish completely. Conveniently for the aristocrats, who were well fed and kept warm in their houses while the rest of the townspeople starved in the bitter cold, the lower class people were the ones who suffered from the lingering trace of the disease.

Garrett tended to keep away from the poorer districts of the city as much as possible; it was depressing and frustrating to be reminded of the inevitability of hierarchy in society. The rich would always thrive while the poor would always suffer. He had thought that restraining the Primal power and putting an end to the Gloom would at least balance the social strata slightly, but he had only succeeded in widening the gap between classes even more.

Despite being acutely aware of his immediate surroundings, Garrett was surprised to find himself already at The Crippled Burrick. He needed to talk to Basso and find a job, something arduous to distract him from the flurry of thoughts in his head.

He paused at the top of the stairs, glancing behind him with keen eyes to ensure that no one was watching. After a quick sweep of the area, he opened the creaky wooden door and quickly closed it shut behind him.

The stale air and dreary atmosphere immediately overwhelmed his senses when he entered the tavern. Surprisingly, clusters of people were talking amongst themselves around the bar.

Garrett tried to avoid walking past the larger groups; he wasn't particularly fond of people in general. He was relieved to find Basso alone in an empty booth. The large man was hunched over a mug of beer.

Silently, Garrett slipped into the bench opposite Basso.

"Glad you finally decided to show," he said as he raised the mug to his lips. He took a sloppy gulp before speaking again.

"Jobs have been piling up. And you know I don't trust those street rats out there who think that stealing a loaf of bread makes them somehow qualified for what I need them to do."

Garrett leaned back against the bench and crossed his arms. "What do you need done, Basso?"

"Well to start with, a man going by the name Jeremy Albright has in possession a rather pricey family heirloom. Keeps it on display somewhere in his room."

"That's an easy job, Basso. Anyone quiet and careful enough can do that." Garrett sensed that Basso was keeping something from him.

Basso took another swig of his drink, then paused before speaking again.

"I-I know, but Garrett you… are you okay? You haven't responded to my messages and I haven't seen you since… what happened with Orion." Basso slammed his mug down on the table. "That bastard. I should have known he was too good to be true. Those fucking Northcrests…"

Garrett narrowed his eyes and knit his brows together, looking at Basso questioningly.

"I was worried, Garrett. I needed answers. It was hard, but I found – what does she go by… the Queen of Beggars? Took me a while to find her. Only found out recently who she was by some fellow who claimed she knew more than me about the goings-on of the city."

"She talked to you?" Garrett said, slightly taken aback.

"She was pretty damn cryptic, but yeah, she did. The woman's reputation does precede her. Seemed to know who I am, that I know you. She told me what happened." He paused to chuckle lightly. "And I thought _I_ knew the city inside out ."

Basso tipped the dregs of alcohol from the mug into his mouth, then looked at Garrett and sighed.

"All right, you want a real job? If you're sure you can handle it, I need help obtaining a... a scripture of sorts."

"I didn't take you for the religious type, Basso." Garrett said teasingly.

"I wouldn't dare take on religion in this day and age," Basso lowered his voice. "Especially if it concerned the old gods. I'd be hanged if anyone knew I wanted this."

"So where is this illicit composition?" Garrett asked.

"My sources tell me it's kept secretly by a Thomas Northington. Don't ask me why he has it. He's an associate of the Baron who, by the way, has gone insane after the… the whatever it's called that was apparently the cause of this whole Gloom sickness disappeared. God knows why that crazy bastard wants to keep that power after all the trouble it's caused."

Basso waved his empty mug at the bartender, demanding a refill.

"What makes you so sure the Primal's power is gone?" Garrett said, leaning forward slightly. "If all traces of the Primal in Erin were removed and sealed in the stone, then why hasn't everyone been cured of the Gloom?"

Garrett noticed that Basso was glancing pointedly at his right eye, which was faintly glowing in the dark tavern.

"I'm not connected to the city; I never was. It was only Erin." Garrett spoke to reassure himself more than Basso.

"Well, did you ever think that maybe no one has the Gloom anymore? I mean, look at the type of people you think show the symptoms. They have plenty of reasons to be depressed with their lives. Besides, people have been committing suicide long before the Gloom came."

Basso nodded in thanks at the man who brought another beer. He immediately started gulping down the pint, finishing it in a few mouthfuls.

Garrett pondered Basso's words for a minute before sliding out of the booth.

"I'll have the scripture for you tomorrow," he said before making his way towards the door.

"Oh, and Garrett," Basso called out. "Be careful, hey?"

Garrett paused in his tracks and turned his head slightly towards Basso.

"When am I not?" He replied before continuing on.

At the doorway he delicately pulled the cloth over his face again, then stepped out of the tavern into the cold, welcoming night.


	4. Chapter 2

_First of all, thank you to everyone who's reading this story! Your support is much appreciated. Well, I've finally come up with a rough idea of the plot of this story. I may go back and change a few things later on, but for now I've pretty much decided on where this story is headed. Also, I realized that since I had a prologue and an update which technically counted as chapters, this reads as "Chapter 4: Chapter 2". Yeah... I don't know if I can fix the titles, so please excuse that! A__nyway, __I hope you enjoy this chapter!_

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><p><em>Chapter 2<em>

After leaving the tavern, Garrett immediately set off to get Basso his scripture. He still had a few hours of darkness to use to his advantage. It was a cool, foggy night too, the perfect night for a thief.

Garrett followed the main road heading towards the Baron's Keep. The Northingtons were well acquainted with the Northcrests and naturally lived in the nicer area of the City; anyone who was on good terms with Elias Northcrest typically benefited from being loyal to him. That is, as long as the person was of the more affluent.

_Loyal_, Garrett thought. _More like too superior to help the poor or too scared to speak out against the Baron._

Garrett continued padding quietly down the cobblestone road, ducking behind crates every so often whenever a couple of Watch officers passed by. It was risky being out in the open road, which was lighted profusely by torches and lampposts, but Garrett enjoyed the challenge and thrill of being in constant danger and reveled in knowing that he might get caught any second. Keeping himself on his toes was what kept him alive.

He continued down the road until eventually he approached the aristocratic residential area. The Baron insisted that the gate he had built around the area was simply decorative, but everyone knew it was to keep everyone who wasn't rich out. After briefly searching for the barely noticeable aperture in the stone wall, Garrett slipped through.

The contrast between the higher class' residence and the rest of the City was startling. Not only were the houses lavishly decorated, but the whole area was cleaner and emptier. It was almost unbelievable that just outside of the gate people were starving to death everyday.

Within minutes, he found himself at the Albrights' estate. The large house exuded an air of elegance and boasted of wealth. Its inhabitants clearly took pride in their high standing in society. A few guards appeared to circle the whole perimeter of the house regularly; entering would not be easy. But then again, Garrett never liked an easy task.

Taking care to keep within the shadows, Garrett slowly made his way towards the back of the house. There were few light sources, but the guards carried torches and appeared to be vigilant in their watch. A couple of times he had to retreat as they approached, but eventually he reached a set of pipes which led straight to an open window. He scaled a straight pipe, then jumped with some difficulty to a higher horizontal one to his left. Garrett paused when he saw a light approaching and waited a few seconds before continuing. The window on the second floor was cracked open an inch, allowing Garrett to pry it up with his bare hands.

Despite the fact that the room he entered was darkened, Garrett could see the abundant riches contained in the numerous cabinets and drawers lining the room. He quickly relieved the Albrights of the treasures, taking care to close whatever he opened. He preferred not to leave a trail which others could trace back to him.

After a quick sweep of the room, Garrett decided to move on; the scripture must have been elsewhere. He instinctively reached for the lock picks fastened to his wrists as he approached the door. The lock was fairly simple and took mere seconds to pick. Garrett glanced through the keyhole to check for any signs of danger, then quietly opened the door when he saw that the hallway was empty. He crouched down as he exited the room and shut the door behind him. The corridor was dimly lit by several candles on the few tables standing against the walls. Garrett padded quietly towards the next door he saw. The lock on it was more intricate. This must have been where the scripture was kept.

It took a bit longer to unlock the door, but he was still able to open it fairly quickly. The first thing he noticed when he entered was an ornate painting hanging on the wall. A desk made of polished, carved wood was placed under it, various documents and paperwork scattered across its surface. A matching chair was tucked under the table and several tall bookcases lined the other walls.

Garrett walked into the office and up to the painting. He touched the frame gently, then moved his slim fingers behind the cool metal as he slid his hands along the frame in search of switches.

Once he found and pulled all the switches, Garrett popped open the door concealed by the painting. In the safe there were several trinkets and unique looking pieces of jewelry, all of which Garrett took after careful examination, as well as an old, well-used book. The thick tome was bound in worn leather and looked as though it hadn't been touched in a long time. Garrett skimmed through the yellowed pages but didn't bother to read the writing. It was written in Latin, which he couldn't understand, anyway.

The soft, muffled sounds of footsteps outside the door snapped Garrett out of his thoughts. He heard the door handle being slowly pushed down and immediately closed the safe and darted into a dark corner of the room just as the door opened. A young woman tentatively stepped in, clad only in a white, ruffled nightgown. "Father," she said. She spoke timidly, her voice soft and silvery. "I was just-" She paused mid-sentence as she scanned the room. Garrett was puzzled at first by her reaction, but then he understood. The door must have only been unlocked when someone was in the room.

He carefully made his way towards the door, avoiding the light streaming in from the hallway. He waited for the woman to move, but she appeared to be trying to make sense of the situation. After a moment's pause, she finally walked back into the hall. Garrett peeked around the corner and saw her walking away. He waited until she turned a corner before stepping back into the corridor.

He was halfway to the door from which he first entered when he heard a shrill scream. Garrett turned around and saw that the woman had returned with a candle in hand. He was in full view of her, exposed by the light.

Garrett moved quickly, running up to her to cover her mouth with his hand - even though she had already stopped screaming - and wrap an arm around her waist. She was catatonic with shock when he pulled her into the nearest room, her muscles tensed and breathing hitched.

He shut the door quietly and strained to listen for any movement outside, checking if anyone heard her scream and came to investigate.

Once the shock passed, she started to struggle, kicking and clawing desperately at his limbs. The woman was surprisingly strong considering her small stature and Garrett wasn't sure how long he could hold her. He considered knocking her out, but harming innocent girls would be crossing a line even for him.

"I'm not here to hurt you," he said quietly into her ear in an attempt to calm her.

Garrett waited until she stopped fighting him, which luckily didn't take long, then gently released her. She whipped around to face him, both apprehension and confusion clearly written on her face, and backed away from him.

A booming voice startled them both.

"Isabella? Where are you? Are you all right? I heard screaming."

As the voice drew closer, Garrett searched for an escape. There were a few windows in the room, but they were small and didn't look like they opened. The only way out was through the door. Finding an escape route wasn't his main concern, though. The trembling person two feet away from him, however, was. There was no guarantee she wouldn't scream, and Garrett knew that she would definitely do so if he tried to approach her.

She was looking at him with trepidation mostly, but for a moment her eyes flashed with concern and curiosity. Garrett gazed at her curiously; he was accustomed to seeing looks of loathing or fear in other people's faces.

The moment didn't last for long. The thunderous voice called out for the woman again, rousing her from her daze. As if she had just realized that there was a thief in her house, her eyes widened and she let out another ear-piercing scream. The door flew open with a loud bang and a man, who Garrett surmised was Thomas Northington, burst into the room.

The burly man stalked towards Garrett the second he laid eyes on him.

"Thief! Get out of my house!" He called out as he lunged for him.

"With pleasure," Garrett replied dryly as he nimbly dodged the older man's attack and swept past him out through the door.

"The Watch will see you hanged once they catch you!" Came the angry voice, already far away.

"I'd like to see them try." Garrett retorted under his breath.

With the scripture tied securely at his waist, he jumped through a nearby window and quickly rappelled the wall. Garrett slipped into the shadows, melding with the darkness as he left the chaotic scene behind him.

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><p><em>Okay, well in case anyone was confused, yes that will be the female OC in this story. She probably won't appear again for a bit but trust me, she will return later on. Hope you guys stay tuned for the next chapter and thanks for being so patient up until now!<em>


	5. Chapter 3

_Thank you for your reviews! And thanks to anyone who's reading this! __I'm sorry that this took so long to publish. Not that it was that difficult to write, it's just that some of my classes (*ahem* physics) require a lot of my time because of the homework and labs and such. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! Please review if you have any comments, criticisms or even questions; they'd be much appreciated!  
>(And once again, sorry about the "Chapter 5: Chapter 3" thing. I'm afraid I can't really do anything about that.)<em>_  
><em>

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><p><em>Chapter 3<em>

Garrett sighed as he hoisted himself up and through a window of the clock tower. Things didn't exactly go as planned at the Northcrest manor. In all his years as a thief, he had seldom been detected. It hurt his pride more than it did his body, though. He could get out of most situations fairly unscathed.

After hopping into the tower, he strode over to his storage box and lifted the heavy lid up. There were only a few extra blunt arrows and food packets scattered inside. He needed to restock his supplies. As he rummaged through the chest, a faint tapping noise caught his attention. He followed the sound to the windowsill, where Jenivere stood pecking at the wooden frame to notify him of a new message. Garrett walked over and picked up the matchbox laying at her feet, drawing his hand back just before the magpie could peck at it. The bird cawed and fluttered its wings before taking flight and disappearing into the dark sky.

Garrett turned the matchbox, illuminated by the moonlight, over. Basso's rough writing was scrawled across the box in black ink.

_Come by now. Need to talk. _

_-B_

Basso wasn't usually this urgent in his messages. Something was amiss. Garrett tossed the light cardboard box into the brazier by the window, resolving to burn it when he returned. He needed to find out what Basso needed from him that was so dire.

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><p>The dusky blue sky was tinged a light orange by the time Garrett reached Black Alley. He needed to make this visit quick if he was to return to the tower in the cover of the receding darkness.<p>

Free to roam around without having to hide from the City Watch, Garrett righted himself. His knees ached slightly from being constantly strained when he crouched. He hoped he wasn't getting too old for the job.

The faint moans and cries of the sick and dying resonated throughout the dark alley. He walked past a few people muttering unintelligibly to themselves and pressing their fingertips to their eyelids. Others appeared to be avoiding everyone else, covering their mouths with cloth and sidestepping the shaking figures huddled on the ground.

He continued onward, his feet landing soundlessly on the damp, uneven road. He followed the path to Basso's office, using a wooden beam overhead to swing through a high open window. Basso was rummaging through one of the many boxes littering the floors and shelves of the room. He froze for a moment, then chuckled as he resumed shuffling through several letters and documents.

"Either I'm getting more alert or you're just getting sloppy."

Garrett scoffed and made his way towards Basso, taking in the familiar sight of the grotty office, the familiar musty smell, the familiar draft coming from the cracks in the ceiling. He removed the scripture form his belt, handing it to Basso as he approached him.

"Ah, I almost forgot," he said as he took the tome from Garrett with an appreciative nod. "Glad I can hire someone who actually knows what they're doing again."

"You called?" Garrett said as he leaned against the stone wall and folded his arms.

"Right, right…" Basso mumbled as he picked up the box and placed it on the ground. He wiped the sweat off of his brow with the back of his hand and sighed before continuing.

"Listen, you know most of my sources are fairly reliable. They don't usually let me down, but it happens sometimes."

Garrett nodded, urging Basso to continue. He wondered where the man was going with this.

"Now I can't verify this myself, but some claim to have seen signs of… a regrouping of sorts."

"A regrouping?" Garrett pushed himself off of the wall to stand up straight.

"Some of those bastards who worked for Orion were seen talking together. Well, quite a lot of them apparently."

"The Graven? I thought the Watch took care of them." They did, after all, try to assassinate the Baron.

"Well, apparently not all of them."

Garrett paced the length of the room. A thousand questions flooded his mind. Orion was dead. Did the Graven delegate a new leader? Were they planning another attempt to overthrow the Baron? Did they even have enough people left to start another rebellion? Would they recruit new members? It certainly wouldn't be that difficult, seeing as antipathy towards the Baron was not a rarity amongst the majority of the townspeople.

"Hey," Basso spoke once Garrett opened his mouth. He raised his hands defensively. "I hate to admit this, but I'm not the person you should be asking if you want answers. I haven't gotten much word on this."

Basso walked over to his desk and began flipping through a small stack of papers.

Garrett paused for a moment, then swiftly made his way over to the window. He knew just the person to consult.

"Guess it'd be wishful thinking to hope that one day you'll use the front door, huh?" Basso muttered without raising his eyes from the desk.

Garrett pulled himself up through the window, swinging one leg through it.

"You know me, Basso. I never take the door if I don't have to." He replied before swinging his other leg over and jumping from the ledge.


End file.
